Amantes Sunt Amentes
by le jardin noir
Summary: Lovers are lunatics. Sandle.


Amantes Sunt Amentes

Lovers are lunatics.

***

"Sure, Greg. Whatever."

That's what she said to me. She spat her words at me like fucking icicles thrown against my back. Stupid, empty, careless icicles. Her voice danced around in my head. Teasing me. Taunting me. Declaring 'I don't care.'

_Shut up. SHUT UP._

All I said to her was, "Bye Sara. See you later." Word for fucking word.

"Sure, Greg. Whatever," she responded without even looking at me.

She doesn't care if she sees me later.

She's not the one analyzing every goddam word she says to me. She's not the one living in euphoria for days after her hand accidentally brushes mine. She's not the one who can't breathe every time she enters a room. She's not me.

_How can she be so blind?_

I can't take it anymore. I feel like I'm going to explode - so I follow her.

She walks outside; quick, determined steps lead her to the shelter of her car. Maybe she just wants to get away from the rain. Maybe she just wants to get away from me.

"Sara!" I call after her.

She stops, hand on her door, and turns to face me. Rain clings to her hair, creates rivulets across her skin, and clusters in her eyelashes. She looks so beautiful. I hate it.

_Stop._ I hear the little voice inside my head. Talking to me. Reasoning with me._ Turn around. Go back inside._

But it's too late. My skin is already drenched, whether it's from rain or tears, I don't know. I can't turn around now.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" I shout.

I don't need to shout, I'm standing barely a foot away from her now. But I do anyway. I can feel all the anger oozing out. I'm like a bottle, slowly filled up, until, eventually, it overflows. I'm overflowing now.

"You don't give a damn about anyone, do you?"

She looks at me, confusion flickering across her face.

"Who are you?" she whispers.

"Greg. Greggo." I taunt her. "Gregory. Fucking. Sanders. Lab rat extraordinaire."

I can feel myself moving closer to her until our faces are inches apart. My hands press against her car, arms trapping her.

"And you. Miss Sara Sidle. Queen of ice. Coldest thing in Nevada."

She glares at me, realization dawning. She tries to duck under my right arm, but I grab her. I hold her still, make her listen.

"You've changed. And. I. Hate. It." I draw out each syllable, enunciating each word perfectly.

I feel her tense. I suppose I'm mocking her a bit. I want her to feel how I feel. I want her to be so full of anger, she's ready to burst. I want her to explode.

And she does.

"I've changed? You think I've fucking changed?" It's her turn to shout at me now. "The Greg I used to know, would never put his hands on me."

I look down. My right hand is clenched tightly around her wrist. Maybe too tightly. I don't remember grabbing her. I pull away quickly. Her skin is red from my touch.

_I'm sorry._

I close my eyes. I want to run back to the lab and hide. But she doesn't let me go.

"You we're the one who stopped talking to me, Greg. You pushed me away."

I shook my head. "No. I didn't stop talking to you."

_I'd never do that._

"Sure, you'd say 'Hi,' but, you stopped at that." She wasn't shouting anymore either. She was pushing the words out of her mouth, as if it physically hurt her to say them. "You didn't ask me how I was, or what I was doing later."

Her voice falters. She doesn't know how to continue.

_I'm sorry. I'm sorry._ The words repeat themselves over, and over in my head - like a tape stuck on repeat. _I'm sorry._ But my mouth can't seem to form the sounds.

She's not looking at me. Her eyes seem glazed over, and she's staring intently at a spot three feet to my left.

_I'm sorry._

_I'm sorry._

"I'm sorry."

She says it, not me. "I have to go."

I'm not sure if she's sorry for the fight, or for the fact that she has to leave. I don't ask her. I stand there, numb. I can't move. I can't speak.

"I'll see you later." She doesn't look at me while she speaks. She climbs into her car, and fastens her seatbelt.

_Don't go. I'm sorry._

She starts her car, carefully glancing at me before she reversed out of her parking space. Her eyes are red, from tears not rain.

"I'm sorry," I whisper.

***

This is a one shot for now. I might change my mind later. I haven't really been in the mood to write for my other story, but I'll update soon. Thanks for reading! I'd love it if you'd review. :)


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